Pilgrim Stories Chapters 31 and 32

SQUANTO

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WHEN Massasoit and his people returned to their camp in the forest, Squanto did not go with them.

“Many, many moons ago wigwams of Squanto’s people stand here, and here,” he said, pointing to the shore and the brookside. “Many canoes on shore. Many camp fires on hillside.”

“Did your tribe move to some other place, Squanto?” asked Elder Brewster.

“No,” answered the Indian, sadly. “Black sickness come. Papoose all die. Squaws all die. Chief and braves die. Only Squanto get well. Squanto come home now, and live with white brothers.”

The Pilgrims were glad to have Squanto live with them, for he helped them in many ways. He knew every path in the forest and was their guide when they went there to hunt. He knew just where the deer went to drink, and in which streams to find the busy beavers.

He taught the pilgrims how to make a trap near the spring where the deer came to drink. He bent down a strong branch of a tree and fastened it to the ground. When the deer stepped upon the end of the branch, it caught his foot and flew up, carrying the deer high in the air.

“This is a cruel trap, Squanto. We will never use it if we can get food any other way,” said William Bradford.

“No, better to shoot deer,” answered Squanto. “Poor Indian not have gun like white man.”

He taught them how to make a snare of willow twigs and put it in the brook to catch fish. He knew how to make a bear trap of logs, and how to call the wild ducks and other birds.

Squanto could go through the forest without making a dry leaf rustle or breaking a twig. He could lie down on the ground and move through the tall grass without being seen.

When the Pilgrims and the Indians met to trade, Squanto could always tell each what the other said. “How could we ever talk to the Indians if Squanto should die?” thought Edward Winslow. “I think I will learn the Indian language while Squanto is here to teach me.”

So the Indian became Winslow’s patient teacher, and when these two were together they used the Indian language. This pleased Squanto very much, for English was hard for him.

The printed page was a great wonder to Squanto. He called it the “speaking paper.” Indians sometimes wrote with paint upon a great flat rock, or with a bit of charcoal upon a piece of birch bark, but their writing was all in pictures.

Squanto was eager to learn to read the white man’s books. “Teach Squanto to make paper talk,” he said to Winslow one day.

So that evening when the candles were lighted, Squanto came to Master Winslow’s house for his lesson. There were no primers or first readers in Plymouth then, but Winslow took down his Bible. It was the book from which he had learned to read; he would teach Squanto from it.

Every evening the Indian and his friend bent over the old book, spelling out its wonderful stories.

One day Squanto came in from the forest, carrying a little oak branch in his hand. Pointing to its tiny leaves, he said, “See! oak leaves big like squirrel’s foot. Time to plant corn now.”

Then he went down to the brook and set a snare to catch the fish as they swam up the stream. The next morning Elder Brewster met Squanto coming from the brook with a large basket full of little fish.

“Why, Squanto!” he said. “What are you going to do with those tiny fish? They are too small to eat.”

“Indians plant corn in these fields many times,” answered Squanto. “Ground hungry now. We must feed the hungry earth.” So he showed the Pilgrims how to put two little fishes into each hill of corn. They were glad to do as Squanto taught them, for they had never planted corn before.

—

BACK TO ENGLAND?

ONE day, almost before the snow had melted from the ground, Priscilla, Mary Chilton, and some of the other girls began to look for spring flowers near the edge of the forest.

They brushed away the dry leaves to see if the violets or windflowers had started to grow. Sometimes they found, pushing their way up through the earth, a group of tiny rough balls which would some day unroll into a beautiful fern.

There were many pale little plants lifting their first buds up through the earth and leaves, but not a flower on any of them.

“It must be too early for blossoms,” said Mary Chilton. “See, there are still patches of snow in that shady hollow.”

“This is Mistress Brewster’s birthday, and I did hope we could find a few blossoms for her,” said Priscilla.

“Since she cannot come to the woods, let us take some of the woods to her,” said Mary, digging up a handful of earth and leaves.

“Why do you take those dry leaves?” asked one of the girls.

Mary lifted the old leaves of the little plant she held, and showed the furry stems and buds of the hepatica. “They will open in a day or two if we put them in the sun, and Mistress Brewster will enjoy watching them unfold,” she said.

When the basket was filled with the dead-looking earth and leaves, it seemed like a queer birthday present for the dear old lady whom the girls often lovingly called “mother.” But it was not many days until dozens of little furry stems lifted their dainty purple and white blossoms above the brown leaves.

As the girls came out of the forest, they looked across the water to where the “Mayflower” still lay in the harbor. The ship swung lightly to and fro as though glad to be free from the icy bounds which had held it so many weeks.

The spring storms were over now, and the “Mayflower” must soon return to England. Every evening for a week the Pilgrims had bent over their rough pine tables, writing letters for the “Mayflower” to carry to friends across the sea.

It was eight months since they had left England, and there was so much to write in these first letters to their friends. They must tell about the place where they had settled, the new homes they were making, and about their Indian neighbors.

Then there was the sad story of sickness and death, which must be told. Many of the letters were full of sadness and longing for England.

As the girls walked slowly down the hill each was thinking of all that had happened to the little band since the “Mayflower” dropped anchor in that harbor.

“There must be a meeting in the common-house this morning,” said Mary Chilton, as she noticed a number of people entering the square log building. “Let us go in.”

When they entered the large room, they saw the captain of the “Mayflower” standing before the people. He was thanking the Pilgrims for the kindness they had shown to him and to his men; for nursing them when they were ill, and for sharing their provisions with them when food was so scarce.

“To-morrow, if the wind is fair, we set sail for England,” he said. “You have had a sad, hard winter here. Many of those whom the “Mayflower” brought to this shore are dead. Now that there are so few of you, are you not afraid to stay here in this lonely land? If any of you wish to return to England, I will give you free passage.”

The Pilgrims thought of the loved ones they had lost, and of the new grave on the hill where, only a few days before, they had laid their dear governor, John Carver.

Mistress Brewster’s eyes grew dim as she thought of her son, and of Fear and Patience so far across the water. Should she return to them? “No,” she thought, “we are making them a better home here, and sometime they will come to us.”

William Bradford, who had been chosen as the new governor, was the first to speak.

“Men, you have heard the captain’s offer. What do you say? Do any of you wish to return to England?”

“No,” came the answer. “Our homes are here, and here we will stay.”

“And these maids who have lost both father and mother, do they not wish to return to their old homes across the sea?” asked the ship’s captain.

“Speak, Priscilla,” said Governor Bradford.

“I have no home other than the one Elder Brewster and his wife so kindly offered me,” said Priscilla.

“I have no wish to return, since all I have is here,” said Mary Chilton.

Again Governor Bradford spoke. “Do not answer in haste,” he said. “Think what it means to remain in this wild new land. Let each man answer for himself and his family. What say you, Master Allerton?”

“I and my family will stay,” he replied.

So said all the others. Not one of the brave men and women accepted the captain’s offer.

Pilgrims Stories by Margaret B. Pumphrey

Pilgrim Stories Chapters 29 and 30

SAMOSET

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AT last spring came bringing health and hope to the Pilgrims. Again the axes rang out in the forest, and the half-built cottages were soon finished. The snow melted from the sunny hillsides, and the ice in the streams broke away and floated into the sea.

One morning the men of Plymouth met in the common-house to make plans for their little army. “On the top of the hill we will build a large, strong fort, and mount our cannons upon it so they will point in every direction,” said Captain Miles Standish. “If the Indians make trouble, we will bring the women and children to the fort for safety. ”

As he spoke there was a frightened scream from the children at play outside. The next moment a tall, half-naked Indian stood in the door before them.

Three eagle feathers were braided into his long black hair. Lines of red and black were painted upon his face. In his hand he carried a long bow, and a quiver of arrows hung between his bare shoulders.

The Pilgrims sprang to their feet, seizing their guns and swords. Perhaps he was only one of many who were already in the village.

[135] The Indian did not move from his place, though he laid his hand upon a little hatchet at his belt. How sharply his bright eyes glanced from one to another of the men!

“Welcome, Englishmen!” said he.

“What! Do these Indians speak English?” said William Bradford.

“Look to your guns, men,” said Captain Miles Standish in a low voice. “He may not be so friendly as he seems.”

Perhaps the Indian understood the Captain’s words, for he said quickly, “Samoset friend of Englishmen. He come to say welcome.”

Elder Brewster stepped forward and gave his hand to the strange visitor. “Thank you for your kind words, friend. Where did you learn our language?”

“Samoset is chief in little land in the sea. Many English come there to fish and buy furs. Samoset much good to Englishmen.”

“How far away is your island?” asked the elder.

“Come big wind in ship, one day. Or canoe to shore, then walk, five days,” answered the chief.

“And which way did you come, Samoset?”

“Samoset come in ship eight moons ago. English friend give Samoset and other chiefs long ride in his ship.”

Then the Pilgrims asked the Indian to sit down in the common-house with them. They brought [136] him food and drink, and as he ate they asked him many questions.

“Are your Indian friends near here?” asked Captain Standish.

“Many Indians in forest,” answered Samoset. “They bring many furs to trade with white men. Indians great hunters. White man not know how to make good traps like Indian.”

The Pilgrims looked at William Bradford and smiled. He, too, was thinking of the Indian deer trap in which he had been caught one day.

“Samoset have Indian friend named Squanto. Him speak good English,” said Samoset, as he took another leg of roast duck.

“Why did not Squanto come with you?” asked Elder Brewster.

“Squanto wise like fox. Him put his paw in trap one time. Him much afraid of white man now.”

“Did the white men not treat him well?” asked Bradford.

Then Samoset laid down his bone and told them Squanto’s story. He said, “Sailor-man tell Squanto to come have little ride in his white-winged canoe. Then he take Squanto and twenty other Indians to land of the sunrise, across the Big-sea-water. He sell them to be slaves.

“After many snows Squanto run away. Good fisherman bring him back home. He learn English in the white man’s country.”

[137] Samoset did not seem in any hurry to leave the village. He walked about looking in at the doors or windows of the cottages. He knew the women and children were all afraid of him, and he seemed to enjoy their fright.

“The women and the children were all afraid of him”

When night came he was still in the village. Some thought he was a spy sent to find out how strong the settlement was. They were afraid they would make him angry by sending him away.

“What shall we do with him?” they asked, as bedtime drew near.

“I believe he is a friendly Indian. He may stay in my house to-night,” said Master Hopkins.

So Mistress Hopkins made a bed for him on a cot in the kitchen. But Samoset would not sleep on the cot. He spread a deerskin on the floor and slept before the fireplace. His dark skin glistened in the firelight as he slept.

But Master Hopkins did not sleep. All night long he lay and watched the Indian on his hearth. He dared not close his eyes for fear he would awake to find his family killed and his house in flames.

Very few of the Pilgrims slept well that night. If they heard an owl hoot or a wolf howl in the forests, they thought it was the yell of Indians come to destroy their town.

But the night passed in safety, and in the morning Samoset bade his new friends good-bye. The [138] Pilgrims gave him some beads and an English coat which pleased him very much.

“Come again to-morrow and bring your friends,” said William Bradford, as he walked with Samoset to the edge of the town. “Tell the Indians to bring their furs and we will pay for them, but you must not bring your bows and arrows, knives or hatchets into our settlement.”

—

THE TREATY OF PEACE

THE next day passed and no Indians came to the village. The day after this was Sunday, and the Pilgrims were always careful to make Sunday a holy day. They met in the common-house to sing and pray to God, and to listen to Elder Brewster’s sermon.

When their service was over, they started quietly toward their homes. Before them marched Captain Standish with his gun, ready to give the alarm if he saw any danger.

Suddenly five great Indians came out of the forest. They wore suits of deerskin, and their faces were streaked with gay-colored paints. In their hair they wore long eagle feathers, and each man carried a roll of fine furs.

“It is Samoset and his friends. That means five more hungry men to feed,” said Priscilla to Mistress Brewster.

“I think we have plenty of food to share with them,” answered Mistress Brewster. “We will set the table for them in the common-house, and they need not come into our houses at all. It frightens the children to see them looking in at the doors.”

After the Indians had eaten their dinner, they spread their furs upon the table. Then they [140] motioned to bowls and kettles, and knives, and other things which they wanted in return for their rolls of furs.

“No, Samoset, this is Sunday. This is our Lord’s Day. Tell your friends we cannot trade with them on the Lord’s Day. Come to-morrow and we will be glad to buy your furs.”

Samoset could not see why one day was any better than another, but he told his friends what the Pilgrims had said. So the Indians rolled up their furs and without another word walked out of the village.

Several days passed and the Indians did not return. The Pilgrims began to wonder if the natives were angry because they had not taken the furs on Sunday.

The men were again in the common-house drawing plans for the fort to be built upon the hill, when Francis Billington and Love Brewster rushed into the room. They were pale with fright and out of breath with running.

“Indians! Indians!” they gasped. “We were down by the brook—gathering willows—to make whistles—and we saw—at least a hundred Indians—come out of the woods.”

But Miles Standish did not wait to hear the end of their story. He ran to the door and looked toward the forest. Yes, the boys were right, there was a large band of Indians on the hill near [141] by. They talked together and pointed toward Plymouth village.

Quickly Captain Standish turned and gave his orders. Each man knew just where he was to stand and what he was to do in case of an attack.

Then Samoset and another Indian left the band and came slowly down into the village. Miles Standish and Edward Winslow went forward to meet them.

“This is Squanto, friend of English,” said Samoset.

“You are both welcome to our village,” answered Edward Winslow. “We hope you have brought many furs to trade with us to-day.”

“No furs,” replied Samoset. “Massasoit, the Great Chief of red men, comes to meet the White Chief. Massasoit would be the White Chief’s brother.”

When the Pilgrims learned that the king of many tribes waited to see them, they wished to show him honor. Governor Carver prepared some gifts for the chief, and Edward Winslow, wearing his finest armor, went with Squanto to the place where the Indians waited.

Massasoit looked very like a king as he rested his long bow upon the ground and stood to receive the white man. He was very tall and straight. His garments of deerskin were beautifully trimmed with shells and shining quills, and he wore a band [142] of eagle feathers which reached from the top of his head to the ground.

“Massasoit looked very like a king”

Upon the grass before Massasoit, Edward Winslow spread a red blanket of fine wool, upon which he placed strings of bright beads, a knife, and a long copper chain.

When he had slowly and carefully arranged [143] all these things, Winslow arose and said to Massasoit, “My chief sends to you these gifts and invites you to his house. He would be your friend.”

When Squanto had told Massasoit these words, the chief motioned Winslow to stay there until he returned. Then taking twenty of his warriors, he went to the village, led by Squanto.

Captain Standish, Master Allerton, and six other soldiers dressed in their bright armor met Massasoit and his men at the brook and escorted them to the common-house. Here a large rug was spread and cushions were laid for the chief and his braves.

Soon the sound of drum and fife was heard, and Governor Carver entered, followed by the rest of the little army.

Then meat and drink were brought, and, after the company had eaten together, Governor Carver and Massasoit made a treaty of peace.

Massasoit arose and in his own language promised that the Indians would not harm the white men, and, if other Indian tribes made war upon Plymouth, Massasoit would help the Pilgrims.

He promised that his tribes should not bring their bows and arrows into the white men’s settlement.

When Samoset had told in English what Massasoit had said, Governor Carver spoke. He said the Pilgrims would not harm the Indians, [144] or carry their guns into the Indian villages when they went there to visit. He promised Massasoit they would always pay the Indians a fair price for the furs and other things they bought of them.

When the governor’s words had been told to Massasoit by Squanto, a treaty of peace was signed. The Indian chief could not write, but, instead, he made a little cross. Massasoit did not understand the signing of the paper. When Indians make a treaty of peace the two chiefs always smoke a peace pipe. So the governor and the chief smoked the great stone peace pipe which Samoset brought to them. “Now are the white men and the red men always brothers,” said Samoset.

Then Massasoit unrolled the gifts he had brought to his white brother, Governor Carver. There were the finest of furs, a bow and arrows like his own, and a necklace of bears’ teeth.

When Massasoit and his company were ready to return to their camp, Captain Standish and his soldiers escorted them as far as the brook, to show them honor.

This treaty of peace between the Pilgrims and the Indians was kept for fifty years. In all this time they did not break their promises to each other.

Pilgrims Stories by Margaret B. Pumphrey

Pilgrim Stories Chapters 27 and 28

PLYMOUTH BAY

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A STORM of wind and snow came up as the Pilgrims sailed along near the shore. The sea was very rough, and the boat seemed in danger of being upset by the waves which tossed it from side to side. The rudder was broken, and the mast was split in three pieces by the heavy wind.

It was growing dark, and the men rowed hard to reach the bay which they could see ahead. There was an island near the mouth of the bay, where they hoped to land, but when they came near it, the night was so dark they could not see to steer between the great rocks along the shore.

The “Mayflower” in Plymouth Harbor

As the storm grew worse the waves rose higher and higher. Through the darkness the men could sometimes see a flash of white foam which showed where the waves were breaking over the rocks.

The wind and water swept them on, and now the giant stones rose close on every side. Again a great wave lifted the little vessel high upon its crest; every moment the men expected to be dashed against the cruel rocks. They grasped the sides of the boat and waited for the crash which would probably end life for them all.

Yet the boat was not dashed to pieces. When the wave rolled back into the sea it left the vessel upon a bit of sandy beach between the rocks. The moment the men felt the boat touch the sand they leaped out and pulled it high upon the shore out of reach of the waves.

The men gathered brushwood and, in the shelter of a great rock, built a roaring fire and camped for the night. Before they slept the Pilgrims knelt upon the ground and gave thanks to God for guiding them through the storm and darkness. Then they repeated a beautiful old song from the Bible, beginning:

“O give thanks unto the Lord, for He is good; for His mercy endureth for ever.”

The next morning the Pilgrims walked about the island, but they found no houses or people there. They climbed the hill to a great rock from which they could see all over the island. There were woods, ponds, and little streams, but no fields, nor any signs of life.

The island was not large enough to be a good place for their settlement. There would not be wood or game enough on it to last many years, and they needed more land for their farms.

The Pilgrims looked about for a tall, straight tree from which to make a new mast for their boat, and soon the chips were flying from a fine young cedar, as the men stripped off its branches and bark. When the new mast was in place and the rudder repaired, the boat was ready for another journey.

But the next day was Sunday, so the Pilgrims rested quietly on the island.

When Monday morning dawned the sea was still rough, but in the bay the water was smooth and blue. As they sailed slowly along near the shore, the Pilgrims sometimes stopped to measure the depth of the water. Here it was deep enough to float the largest ships.

One large rock lay at the edge of the water, and the men rowed the boat to it. They stepped out upon the rock and looked eagerly about them.

There was space enough on that sunny hillside for all their fields. At the foot of the hill flowed a brook of clear, sweet water.

After drinking from the brook the men walked up the hill to the woods. From the top of the hill they could see a long distance up and down the shore.

“If we build our village here, this high hill will be just the place for our fort,” said Miles Standish.

The Pilgrims thought the matter over carefully, for there must be no mistake in choosing a place to settle.

Here were a deep, safe harbor and plenty of running water. The earth seemed to be rich and free from stones and stumps. It looked as though the Indians had once raised corn here. Perhaps they had cleared the land.

Since the forest was at the top of the hill, it would not be hard to get logs for their houses. What better place could they find?

So the men sailed back to the “Mayflower” to tell the other Pilgrims the good news. How glad they were to know that a good place had been found for their homes!

“If I am not mistaken,” said Governor Carver, “the little bay where we landed has been called Plymouth Bay.”

The Pilgrims decided they would keep the name. It would remind them of the town of Plymouth in England, where many of them had friends.

The Pilgrims were eager to begin their houses at once, so the “Mayflower” sailed into the deep, quiet waters of Plymouth Bay. When it was within a stone’s throw of the shore, it could go no farther, and the smaller boat was made ready to carry them to the land.

The men were not the only ones to go. Several of the women wished to see the place which had been chosen for their home. So the boat carried Mistress Brewster, Mary Chilton, Mistress Carver, and a number of others besides the men.

They rowed up to the large rock by the shore. It was the only dry landing place on the beach, for the water was very shallow there.

As the boat reached the rock, and almost before it came to a standstill, out sprang Mary Chilton upon this famous stone, saying with a laugh, “I will be the first woman to step foot in our new town.” And so she was.

The rock upon which she stepped is still near the ocean where it was when the Pilgrims came. It is called Plymouth Rock, and each year many go to the town of Plymouth and look at the place where the Pilgrims landed.

When all had landed, Mary Chilton, Priscilla, and the Allerton girls tripped along the beach, stopping now and then to pick up a shell or a pretty stone. As they came near a little thicket of trees hung with wild grapevines, Mary stopped to listen.

“I hear the sound of running water,” she said. “There must be a spring near by.” The girls all stood still and listened to the trickling water. It was like sweet music to their ears.

They hurried on and soon came to a rocky nook where the water bubbled and sang as it escaped from the dark earth.

Never had water tasted so good, the girls thought, as they dipped it up in their large shells. Not in all the years they lived in Holland had they tasted water fresh from a cold spring.

“Here are some wild plum and crab apple trees. What a beautiful spot this will be next May when these trees are in bloom!” exclaimed Remember Allerton. Then the girls tried to think how this bleak hillside would look next summer when it would be dotted with cottages, and the fields were green with growing corn.

“I am afraid there will not be any bright gardens such as we had in Leiden,” said Priscilla, “for I doubt if there is a flower seed on the ship.”

“Oh, yes, there is,” answered Mary Chilton. “I thought about that last summer, and gathered ever so many seeds. Each of us can have a little flower bed. We will save the seeds again and by another year we will have enough to make the whole village gay with blossoms.”

A sharp, cold sleet now began to fall, and summer and blossoms seemed far away. The women hurried back to the boat, but some of the men stayed to plan for the new town.

—

THE FIRST WINTER IN PLYMOUTH

THE Pilgrims could hardly wait until morning to begin the town. It was scarcely daylight when they loaded their axes, guns, saws, and hammers on the boat and rowed to shore.

“First we will build a large log house at the foot of the hill,” said Governor Carver. “It will be strong and safe, and we can all live there while we are building our own houses.”

While some measured the space for the common-house, others went to the forest to cut trees. You could hear their axes ring from morning till night. They had no horses to help them, and their hands must do all the work. So they dragged and rolled the logs from the forest.

John Howland called Giles Hopkins, Francis and John Billington, Love Brewster, and several others. “Come, boys,” he said, “bring your sharp knives and we will go to the pond and cut rushes to thatch the roof.”

William Bradford saw them start, and he shouldered his gun and went with them. If Indians should come, one man could not protect so many children. When they came to the pond, they cut the long rushes and tied them in bundles to carry back to the men. Once they heard the wild yell of Indians, and sometimes the howl of wolves in the forest, but they did not come near. It was Christmas day when the first logs were cut and in three weeks the common-house was finished. It was a rough building, with its thatched roof and unplastered walls. The windows were made of oiled paper instead of glass. But it was their own, and the Pilgrims felt very happy when it was done.

They made a wide street from the shore to the top of the hill. It was named for their old home in Holland and is still called Leiden Street.

When the common-house was finished, the Pilgrims began to build their little cottages on each side of Leiden Street. There were nineteen families for which to provide. John Alden was to live with Captain Standish and help him build his house. Other men who were alone would live with those who had families.

The winter grew colder and more bitter. There were many days so stormy no work could be done on the houses. Food was scarce, and every day some of the men tramped through the deep snow in search of game. Often they returned nearly frozen, and with empty game bags.

The Pilgrims were often wet and cold, and they did not have proper food. Do you wonder that many of them became sick and died?

Rose Standish was the captain’s young wife. Her sweet face and gentle, loving manner had made her very dear to the Pilgrims. If any were homesick and lonely, Rose seemed to know best how to cheer them. She was always planning little comforts or pleasures for others.

But Rose was not so strong and well as the others. Miles Standish sighed as he saw her grow more weak and pale every day. “My poor little Rose!” he said. “You are too frail a flower for this rough, wild life.”

“I shall be better when I can leave the ship and breathe the sweet, fresh air of the earth and woods,” she said.

So, as soon as the common-house was finished, Miles Standish gently lifted Rose into the smaller boat and took her to the shore. He carried her in his strong arms to the new log house and laid her upon a little cot.

The brave captain trembled with fear as he saw her flushed face and held her fevered hand. He knew an enemy had come which he could not conquer.

A few more days of suffering, and then Miles Standish was left alone.

Soon William Bradford became very ill, and then Goodman White, Mistress Allerton, and many others. In the common-house were long rows of white cots where lay suffering men and women.

At last there came a time when there were but seven well enough to hunt for the food, care for the sick, and bury the dead.

All day Priscilla moved quietly about, bathing fevered faces, or with cool hand rubbing the pain from some aching head. Or she bent over the coals of the fire making broth or toast for the sick, or cooking for those who nursed them.

At night when only a dim candle lighted the room, Doctor Fuller or Miles Standish went from bed to bed, giving a cool drink to one, or turning a heated pillow for another. Often a cup was placed in the hand of one of the weary nurses and Priscilla would whisper, “Drink this hot broth. It will give you strength to wait upon others.”

If it were their white-haired elder who was on watch, she would beg him to lie down and rest for an hour while she took his place.

“No, no, Priscilla,” he would say, “you can not work all day and watch at night. Take your rest, child, you need it much.”

Then she would go back to her bed, stopping to smooth a pillow or speak a cheery word to some one too ill to sleep.

But even tender nursing could not bring health and life to all. Every day there was a new grave to be made on Cole’s Hill.

At last came a morning when Priscilla could not rise. She was burning with fever and in her sleep talked of her old home in France. She thought she was a little girl playing with baby Joseph. She could not even know when, one by one, her mother, father, and brother were laid under the snow on the hill.

The Pilgrims were afraid to have the Indians see so many graves. Perhaps they would attack the town if they knew there were so few of the white men left.

So late at night a little group of men carried their sad burden up the hill. When the grave was filled, they covered it over with snow that the Indians might not see it so easily.

In a few weeks half of the little band of Pilgrims lay buried on Cole’s Hill.

Pilgrims Stories by Margaret B. Pumphrey

Pilgrim Stories Chapters 25 and 26

A NARROW ESCAPE

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WHILE the men were away with the boat, the children could not go to the shore to play. They had to amuse themselves on the ship as well as they could.

This was not hard for little Francis Billington to do, but his amusements never seemed to please the older people. If he started to cut his name on the railing of the ship, some one was sure to call, “Don’t do that!”

If he tried to climb the ropes from the mast, somebody always dragged him down. Even when he sat down quietly to hold one of the babies, it was always, “Francis! See how you let his head hang down,” or, “Just look at that baby’s little feet! Francis, you must keep them covered.” Then some one would come and say, “Let me take the baby. I am so afraid you will drop him.”

Poor little Francis! He did not mean to be naughty, but he was a great trial to the Pilgrim mothers and fathers. When he was quiet for a few minutes, they felt sure he must be in some mischief—and they were usually right.

“Francis is not a bad boy,” Elder Brewster used to say. “Just wait until his father begins to build his house, then Francis will be too busy to get into mischief. I believe there will not be a harder-working boy in the village than Francis.”

“Then let us hurry and find a place to build,” said Mistress Billington, “for I am almost worn out.”

While his father and the other men were away digging up corn in the Indian village, mischief-loving Francis was wandering about the boat looking for amusement.

In his hands he held some of the pretty feathers of the wild duck. He thought what fun it would be to fill these quills with gunpowder and make some firecrackers. He called them squibs.

So he went down to the cabin where the powder was stored. There was no one in the room, but he soon found a keg which had been opened, and he began to fill his squibs. It was hard to make the powder go into the little quills; most of it went on the floor instead.

When the squibs were filled, he looked about and saw several old muskets hanging upon the wall. “How those women in the next room would jump if I should fire off one of those muskets!” thought the boy.

Muskets made in those days could not be fired by pulling a trigger. The powder must be lighted by a spark of fire. At that time no one had learned how to make matches, either. But Francis knew where to find a slow-burning fuse made of candlewick, and away he ran to get it.

Soon he returned, carrying the burning fuse right into the powder room.

Oh, Francis! Think of the powder upon floor. And think of that open keg half filled with the deadly powder. If one little spark should reach it, the ship and every one on it would be blown to pieces.

But Francis never stopped to think twice about anything. He climbed upon a box and took down an old musket, then looked to see if it were loaded. Yes, it was all ready to fire, and Francis knew how to do it.

I think the very sun must almost have had a chill when he peeped through the tiny window and saw the terrible danger.

Boom! roared the old musket. Then came a blinding flash, and boom! Bang! Snap! Crack! Bang! Oh, what a deafening din!

When the thick smoke had cleared a little, a very angry sailor found a very frightened boy in a corner of the cabin. Francis did not know how he came to be lying there in a heap. He only knew that his eyes were smarting and his hands were very sore.

Women with white faces and trembling hands tried to comfort their screaming children. Sailors hurried to and fro looking for leaks in the boat.

But, wonder of wonders, no great harm had been done. The squibs were gone; two or three of the loaded muskets had gone off; but the powder on the floor had flashed up and burned out without setting fire to the keg. “If that keg had exploded, we should have found no more of the ‘Mayflower’ than a few chips floating upon the water,” said Miles Standish, when he heard of it. “I wonder that it escaped.”

“It was the mercy of God alone,” said the Pilgrims.

—

THE INDIANS

IT grew colder and colder every day, but still the Pilgrims had not found a good place to build their homes.

So Governor Carver, William Bradford, Captain Standish, and others again sailed away in their boat. They carried guns and axes, blankets, and food enough to last them many days.

It was December now, and the bay was full of ice. The driving snow and sleet cut their faces and froze on their clothing. Some of the men nearly died of the cold.

Every day they went ashore to see if there was a good place to settle. There were so many things to be thought of.

They must find a place near the woods so they could get logs for their houses and wood for their fires. Yet the forest must not be too near, for they must have a clear space in which to plant their grain.

There must be a deep, safe harbor, and above all, a stream of clear, fresh water.

They landed again and again, but it was hard to find a place which had all these things. They would search all day and at night make a camp in the forest.

One night after a hard day’s tramp, they built a great fire and cooked their supper. They could get plenty of fresh meat in the forest, and they had brought bread, beans, and dried peas from the ship.

After they had eaten their supper and had prayers, all went to sleep except the two men who were to watch.

The light from the flames fell upon the tired faces of the men as they lay in a circle about the fire. It touched lightly the trunks of the tall trees, and stretched long, dark shadows across the hard frozen ground.

Sometimes they saw shining eyes peering at them from the darkness, but the animals were all afraid of the fire and soon slunk away.

About midnight the watchmen heard a long, loud cry in the distance. It sounded like the yell of Indians.

“To arms! To arms!” they cried.

The Pilgrims sprang to their feet and seized their guns. A long time they waited and listened, but no Indians came. “Perhaps it was only the howl of wolves or foxes,” said the men, as they lay down again.

The Pilgrims were up before the sun, next morning, cooking their breakfast and preparing to sail farther along the shore. While some cooked the meal, others carried blankets and guns down to the boat.

While they were sitting about the fire eating their breakfast, they heard a frightful sound near by.

“Woach! Woach! Ha! Ha! Woach!” came the cry.

The Pilgrims sprang to the boat for their guns. They fired several shots into the forest thinking to frighten the Indians, but on they came.

Nearer and nearer sounded the cry. “Woach! Woach! Ha! Ha! Woach!”

In the faint morning light the Pilgrims saw the forms of many natives slipping from tree to tree. Then whiz! whir! whir! sounded the arrows, as they flew thick and fast. Two of them stuck in John Howland’s coat, and one struck Captain Standish above the heart, but he had his armor on and the arrow did no harm.

The Pilgrims quickly sprang away from the light of the fire. They tried to protect themselves in the dark shadows of the forest.

Whiz-z-z! Whir-r-r-r! The arrows were flying from every direction, but not an Indian was to be seen. They, too, were well hidden behind trees and bushes.

The Pilgrims kept very still. Then the Indians grew bolder. They crept silently toward the camp, their dark forms looking like dim shadows in the forest.

This was just what the Pilgrims were waiting for. Bang! Boom! roared the muskets. One of the bullets struck the Indian chief in the arm. He could not draw his bow again. With an angry yell the natives fled into the forest.

The Pilgrims followed them a short distance, shouting and firing their muskets. When they returned to the camp, they picked up many arrows. Some were pointed with a sharp bit of deerhorn, and some with eagles’ claws. These arrows the Pilgrims sent to England when the “Mayflower” returned.

Pilgrims Stories by Margaret B. Pumphrey

Pilgrim Stories Chapters 23 and 24

THE FIRST WASHING DAY IN NEW ENGLAND

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IT was Monday morning, and the sun was brighter and the weather more mild than in weeks before.

The children gazed eagerly toward the shore and thought what fun it would be to have a long run on that smooth, sandy beach, or to hunt for nuts in those great woods. They were so tired of being on the ship.

Just then Mistress Brewster came upon the deck. She shaded her eyes with her hand and looked off across the water. “What a good place to do our washing!” she said, as she gazed at the shore. “Not one proper washing day have we had since we sailed.”

It did not take long to get tubs, pails, and everything ready. John Alden and John Howland loaded the things into the boat and rowed the merry party to the shore.

But Mistress Brewster did not forget the children, who looked longingly at the boat as it pulled away. When it came back for its next load, she said kindly, “Come, boys. You shall have your run on the beach. We need your quick feet and strong arms to bring brushwood for our fires. And the girls must come too. They can help spread the clothes upon the bushes to dry.”

It seemed so good to be on the ground again. As soon as the boat touched the sand the children sprang ashore and raced each other up and down the beach.

The first washing day in New England

“Let’s hunt for nuts under those trees!” cried Love Brewster, and away the boys bounded toward the woods. John Alden shouldered his gun and went with them, for it was not safe for them to go into the forest alone.

In the edge of the woods stood a tall, straight tree. The long scales which curled from its shaggy bark told John Alden it was a hickory tree. Under the tree was a thick carpet of yellow-brown leaves. Under that carpet there must be plenty of sweet nuts.

The boys dragged their feet through the deep leaves, or tossed them aside with their hands. Yes, there lay the white nuts, thousands and thousands of them. The frost had opened their tough, brown coats, but the tree had covered them with a blanket of leaves.

While the boys were gone, the men drove two forked stakes into the hard sand. Across the top of these stakes they placed a long pole from which to hang the great kettles.

Soon the fire was snapping and crackling under the kettles. The flames leaped higher and higher as the children piled dry leaves and branches upon them. Then the water began to simmer and sing.

All the morning the women rubbed and boiled, or rinsed and wrung the clothes. The men were kept busy carrying water and firewood.

By noon the tubs were empty, and as Mary Chilton spread the last little dress to dry, she saw the boat pull away from the “Mayflower.”

“Here comes Priscilla with our dinner!” she cried.

Priscilla was a wonderful cook. Sometimes there was but little to cook, but Priscilla could always make something dainty and good from the plainest food.

To-day she had made a great kettle of soup, with vegetables and the broth of the wild birds. How good it smelled as it heated over the fire!

“Here comes Priscilla with our dinner”

Long before night the clean, fresh clothes were dry and folded away in the tubs and kettles. Then the tired but happy Pilgrims rowed back to the “Mayflower.”

—

A WILD LAND

THE next day some of the Pilgrims sailed along the shore for several miles, still looking for a deep, safe harbor and a stream of clear water.

At last they noticed a little brook, and turned their boat toward the shore. Leaving four men to guard the boat, the others struck into the forest. Not a sound did they hear but the rustling of dry leaves as they walked through them, or the moaning of the wind in the tree tops. The November woods seemed very bare and lonely.

When they had gone a mile or two, they saw a large deer drinking at a brook. They stood still and watched him, but the deer had heard their step. He raised his beautiful head and listened a moment, then bounded swiftly into the forest.

But William Bradford was not watching the deer. His sharp eyes had seen something moving on the hilltop not far away. As he gazed he saw, first the head and shoulders, and then the whole body of a man appear over the brow of the hill. Then came another, and another. Could it be John Alden and the others had left the boat and come after them? Surely they would not disobey the captain, for Miles Standish had told them not to leave the boat lest the natives take it.

But now he could see their dark faces, and their long, black hair and eagle feathers.

“Look!” he whispered, “Indians! Indians!”

“Perhaps that means work for ‘Gideon,’ ” thought Captain Standish, as he seized his sword.

“Put away your sword, Captain,” said Governor Carver, gently. “We want to make friends of these people if we can. Perhaps they can tell us of some town or settlement. At least we may be able to buy some food from them.”

So the Pilgrims waited quietly in the shadows of the forest until the Indians came near. Down the hill they came, their quick eyes looking for the print of a deer in the soft earth.

When they reached the foot of the hill they saw tracks which had been made by no animal of the forest. Neither had they been made by an Indian’s moccasin. There seemed to be hundreds of these tracks. What could it mean? They stood close together and peered eagerly into the forest.

Then the Pilgrims stopped from behind the trees, and came toward them. John Carver, the governor, held out to them some strings of bright beads, but the Indians would have none of them.

For a moment they gazed at the white men in terror. Then, without stopping to fit an arrow to their bow strings, they fled.

Where had they gone? Had the earth opened and taken in her frightened children? Only an Indian knows how to disappear so quickly.

“Ugh!” they said, when they were safe away. “Ugh! Palefaces have come!”

The Pilgrims followed the Indians for ten miles, but they did not come within sight of the natives again all that day, though they often saw the print of their feet.

“They saw tracks which had been made by no animal of the forest”

Sometimes these footprints showed where the Indians had climbed a hill to watch the white men.

When night came, the men found a sheltered place to camp until morning. They built a fire, and while two watched, the others slept.

In the morning they marched on again, going farther south. They saw fields where corn had been raised, but not an Indian, or a house of any kind. No doubt the Indians saw them very often, and knew just where they were all the time.

A little later in the day the Pilgrims came to some strange looking houses. They were round and low, with a small opening for a door; a hole in the top served for a chimney.

The men went from one house to another but could find no one. They knelt down and crawled into the wigwams, but there the fires had burned out many days before.

“They knelt down and crawled into the wigwams”

In the wigwams they found earthen pots and dishes, wooden bowls, and beautiful baskets made of grasses and trimmed with shells. Now they could see that the framework of the wigwam was made of long willow branches with both ends stuck into the ground. Over the frame the Indians had fastened large mats of woven reeds, which kept out the cold and rain. From the inside the wigwam looked like a great open umbrella.

“What is this?” cried one of the men, as he came upon a little mound of earth near the Indian village.

“Perhaps it is an Indian grave,” replied another.

“No, it is too wide and round for that. We will open it and see what is buried here.”

So they dug away the earth and found a large basket. It was round and narrow at the top, and was covered with large leaves. After a good deal of trouble the basket was raised from the hole and opened. It was filled to the brim with corn, some white, some red, and some of a bluish color.

This was Indian corn. It did not grow in England or Holland then, and the Pilgrims had never seen grain like it before. It tasted very good, and the Pilgrims were much in need of food. The provisions which they had brought from England were almost gone.

So finally they decided to take back to the “Mayflower” as much corn as they could carry, and pay the Indians for it when they could.

Soon they had dug up about ten bushels of corn. Then they went to the shore and built a fire as a signal for the boat to come for them and take them back to the “Mayflower.”

Pilgrims Stories

Pilgrim Stories Chapters 21 and 22

WATER BABIES

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ON and on the ship sailed. How wide the water seemed.

Some days were full of sunshine: then the little children could play upon the deck. They loved to watch the sunset across the wide ocean. Then the sky was bright with purple and gold. Each wave caught the colors from the clouds until the whole world seemed aglow.

They loved to watch the stars come out in the evening. At first only two or three of the biggest, bravest ones peeped forth, to see if the sun had gone. Then a few others looked timidly out. Yes, the sun was really gone, and his glory of red and gold was quickly following him.

Then troops of little stars burst from their hiding places. They twinkled merrily at the little Pilgrims, as if to say, “See we are going with you to your new home. We went with you to Holland; we will go with you to America. Do not be lonely.”

But it grew colder, for the winter was drawing near. Many days the deck was too cold and icy to play upon. Then the children must stay in the dark, crowded cabin.

Poor little Pilgrims! Many were ill, and all wished the long voyage ended. There were but few games they could play in the little cabin, and they had no toys or story books. How they longed for the green fields and shady woods!

Then Priscilla told them stories of the sunny land where she once lived. Did only pleasant things happen in that wonderful country? If there were any unhappy times there, Priscilla never spoke of them. The stories she told were such merry tales they brought sunshine into the gloomiest little faces.

Even tired mothers, who were too far away to hear the story, would smile as they looked into Priscilla’s laughing eyes. “What a comfort that child is,” they often said.

Then Mary Chilton, who had grown to be a large girl now, played games with them. John Alden whittled out a wonderful puzzle for them, and every one tried to make the voyage pleasant.

But nine weeks is a long time to be shut up on a boat, and be tossed about by the rough waves. The little ones were so tired, it seemed to them they could not stand it any longer.

Then what do you think happened away out there on the ocean? Two dear little baby boys were born. Oh, how happy the children were! They forgot to be tired then.

You may be sure those babies never lacked nurses. It was such fun to hold them and sing to them softly until they closed their eyes and went to sleep.

Of course, every one wanted to help name the babies. Each thought of the very best name he knew, but it was hard to suit all.

Giles Hopkins wished to name his baby brother Jan, after a friend in Holland, but that name did not suit his parents at all. They did not want to give their baby a Dutch name.

“Those babies never lacked nurses”

Mistress Hopkins thought he should be named Stephen for his father.

“No,” said Master Hopkins, “if he were given my name he would be called ‘little Stephen’ until he grew to be a man. I believe no child was ever born here before. I wish he might have a name no other has ever had.”

What could it be? Some spoke of “Mayflower,” but others thought that a better name for a little girl.

A week passed and still the baby was not named. “This will never do,” said his mother. “Constance, you have not said what you would like to name your little brother.”

Constance said she had been thinking “Ocean” would be a good name for this baby.

“Ocean!—Ocean!” whispered the mother to herself. It was certainly a very suitable name, but it had a queer sound. Surely no other child had ever borne that name.

When Elder Brewster heard about the new name he said, “I know of a word in another language which means ocean. It is Oceanus. Perhaps you would like that name better.”

“Oceanus!” That seems like a queer name for a child, but the pilgrims often gave their children names which seem strange to us. This did not sound so strange to them. They thought “Oceanus Hopkins” a very good name for the baby, and so it was decided.

Then came the other wee baby. He too must have a suitable name. What should it be?

After many names had been considered, Mary Allerton said she thought “Wandering” would be a good name for the baby, because the Pilgrims were wandering in search of a home.

Mistress White did not quite like “Wandering” for a name, but she asked Elder Brewster if he did not know another word which meant the same thing.

And so this baby was named “Peregrine.” Peregrine White and Oceanus Hopkins! “Those are very large names for such very tiny babies,” thought little Love Brewster.

—

LAND

IT was now nine weeks since the Pilgrims sailed from England. No one had thought the voyage would be so long. The captain felt sure they must be coming near land, but he could not tell just where they were.

Many times a day, a sailor climbed high up on the mast to look for land. Still there was nothing to be seen but the wide sea,—not an island, nor even a ship.

At daybreak one cold November morning, a glad shout rang through the ship. “Land! Land!”

Yes, there lay the land—that new land which was to be their home and ours.

There were no rocky cliffs like those of England. Before them rose tall, green pine trees, and great oaks still wearing their dress of reddish brown.

Not a town or a single house could they see. No smoke rose from the forest to tell them where a village lay hidden. Not a sound was heard but the whistling of the cold wind through the ropes and masts, and the lapping of the water about the boat.

“This is not the sunny southland we had hoped to find,” said their governor, John Carver. “The storms have driven us too far north for that.”

“No, this is not the sunny southland, but land of any sort is a joyful sight after our long voyage,” replied Elder Brewster. “Let us not forget to thank God, who has brought us safe to this new land.”

It was too near winter to sail farther south. Near by the Pilgrims must find the best place to make their home. So the little ship sailed into the quiet bay and dropped anchor. Perhaps it, too, was glad the long voyage was ended.

The water in the bay was so shallow that the ship could not reach the shore. So the men quickly lowered the small boat the “Mayflower” carried. Then Miles Standish, William Bradford, John Alden, and several of the others climbed down the rope ladder into their boat and rowed away. They carried their guns and axes, and had an empty keg which they hoped to fill with fresh water. That which they brought from England was almost gone, and all were thirsty for a drink of cold, fresh water.

The sun had gone under a cloud, and the wind was wild and cold. The icy water dashed over the hands of the men as they rowed. When they reached the shore, they pulled the boat upon the sand that it might not drift away.

“I think two or three would better stay near the boat while the others go into the forest,” said Captain Standish. “We should be in a sad plight if natives were to steal our boat while we are all gone.”

So John Alden and William Bradford stayed near the boat. Floating on the shallow water, or flying through the air, were hundreds of wild fowl. The Pilgrims had not tasted fresh meat since they left England. What a treat some of these wild birds would be!

The two men knelt behind their boat and kept very still. After a while the birds came near to the boat. Bang! Bang! flashed the guns, and bang!—bang!—bang! rang the echo.

Away flew the birds, but John ran along the shore, and waded into the water, picking up the ducks they had killed. “We will have a supper fit for a king, to-night,” said John to himself, as he carried the birds back to the boat.

Then they built a fire of dry branches, to warm their stiffened fingers and dry their clothes. When the wood was all ablaze they piled green pine branches upon the fire. There was a sharp, crackling sound, and a cloud of black smoke arose.

“If the men get lost in the forest they will see this smoke and know which way to go,” thought Bradford, as he piled on the sweet-smelling pine.

Then they cut some dry wood to carry back to the “Mayflower,” for the fuel was all gone, and the cabin was very cold. In the bottom of the boat was a pile of clams which the men had dug from the sand.

It was almost night when Captain Standish and his men came out of the forest. They carried some rabbits, and their keg was full of fresh water which they had found not far from the shore.

All day they had not seen a house or a person. When they reached the top of the hill, one man took a glass and climbed a tall pine tree. He was surprised to see that the ocean lay on both sides of the forest. The land seemed like a long arm stretched into the sea.

This was not a good place to make their home. The harbor was too shallow and there were no rivers or large brooks where they could always get fresh water. The little ponds they had found would dry up in the summer.

The next day was the Sabbath. They would spend it quietly on the ship, and on Monday perhaps they could look farther.

Pilgrims Stories

Pilgrim Stories Chapters 19 and 20

THE “SPEEDWELL”

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FOUR days of good wind and fair weather brought the “Speedwell” to England. There the Pilgrims found about forty friends who wished to go with them to America. They had hired a little ship called the “Mayflower,” which now lay in the harbor ready to sail. It, too, was loaded with provisions for the long journey and the cold winter.

The “Speedwell” was a smaller vessel than the “Mayflower,” so some of the Pilgrims from Holland joined their friends on the larger boat. Then the two ships sailed out of the harbor into the blue sea.

The Pilgrims watched the shores of their native land grow faint and fainter. Would they ever see dear old England again? Surely none expected to see it so soon as they did.

They were hardly out of sight of land when the “Speedwell” began to leak. They could see no hole, but slowly the water rose in the bottom of the boat. It crept around the boxes and barrels stored there. “The hole must be behind this pile of boxes,” said the captain.

While some of the men pumped the water out of the ship, others quickly moved the great boxes away.

Yes, there was a little stream of water running down from a hole in the side of the ship. This was soon mended, but still the water slowly rose in the boat. The men at the pumps worked harder than ever, but the water came in as fast as they could pump it out.

More holes were found and mended, but still the ship leaked. There was nothing to do but go back to land as soon as possible. Those on the “Mayflower” did not wish to go on without their friends, so both ships returned to England.

When the “Speedwell” reached shore, the ship builders came to look at it.

“It carries too heavy a mast for so small a ship,” said one.

“The hull is worn out,” said another. “See, it needs new boards, and fresh tar, and fresh paint. It will take weeks to repair this ship and make it safe for so long a voyage.”

What could the Pilgrims do? The fine weather was passing. They would hardly reach America now before the heavy storms of winter came. It was quite plain they could not wait until the “Speedwell” was repaired.

The “Mayflower” could not hold all who wished to go to America, yet the Pilgrims could not hire another ship. The passengers on the “Speedwell” were a long way from home. It seemed hard for them to return to Holland.

So some of those who lived in England offered to give up their places in the “Mayflower” and return to their homes.

“Next summer there will be other ships sailing to America from England, and it may be a long time before another will go from Holland,” they said.

—

THE VOYAGE OF THE “MAYFLOWER”

WHEN the provisions and the boxes of other goods had been moved from the “Speedwell” to the larger boat, the “Mayflower” started once more. Now she carried a hundred passengers besides her sailors.

We should think the “Mayflower” a very small boat in which to cross the ocean. The cabin was badly crowded, and there was only one small deck.

At that time no one had thought of making a boat go by steam. The “Mayflower” had large white sails, and when the wind was good she sped over the water like a great sea bird.

But sometimes there was no wind, and the little vessel lay still upon the quiet water. Sometimes the sky grew black with storm clouds and the fierce winds swept down upon the ship. Then the sailors quickly bound the sails close to the masts, but still the vessel was often driven far out of her course. No wonder it took so long to cross the ocean in those days.

In one of these great storms a young man almost lost his life. For many days the passengers had been kept in the cabin by the weather. The deck was wet and slippery. The rough winds swept across it; the waves washed over it. It was not safe for any of the passengers there.

But John Howland did not like to stay quietly in the crowded cabin. So he climbed the narrow stairs and stepped out upon the slippery deck.

How wild and terrible the storm was! The waves were almost as high as the masts! Sometimes the “Mayflower” rode high upon the tops of the waves. At other times it was quite hidden between them.

John saw a great wave about to break over the ship. He tried to reach the cabin door, but he was too late. With a crash like thunder, the wave struck the ship and swept away one of the masts. John seized the railing with both hands, but the wave was stronger than he. It flung him into the sea.

“Help! Oh, help!” he cried. “Help!”

But his voice could not be heard above the storm. He fought with the waves and tried to swim, but it was of no use. The water closed over his head. Who could help him now?

Over the side of the ship hung some ropes dragged down by the falling mast. John saw one of these long ropes trailing through the water. The rope was close at hand, and he reached out and grasped it.

Hand over hand, he pulled himself toward the ship. His strength was fast going. Would no one come to his rescue?

Some sailors on the “Mayflower” saw John struggling for his life. “Hold on, John!” they shouted, as they pulled in the rope.

John did hold on, though his hands were stiff with cold, and the waves beat him back from the ship. Slowly he was lifted from the water, and strong arms reached down to help him. At last he lay upon the deck, faint but safe.

Pilgrims Stories

Pilgrim Stories: Chapters 17and 18

PREPARING FOR THE JOURNEY

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THAT spring brought very busy days to the Pilgrims in Leiden. Those who were going to America had many things to prepare, and those who stayed behind were glad to help them get ready.

They must have plenty of cloth made, for there would be no time to weave more until their new homes were built. It would be cold winter by that time and they must have warm jackets, and dresses, and cloaks.

So hum-m-m-m! hum-m-m-m! went the spinning wheels from morning till night. And click! clack! click! clack! went the big looms, as the flying shuttle wove the gray yarn into cloth.

Preparing for the journey

Far into the night the tired women stitched with busy fingers. In those days all the sewing must be done by hand, and it took much time and much patient labor to make a garment.

There was plenty of work for the children as well as for their elders. Even tiny hands could hold the skein while mother wound the yarn into a ball. And you should have seen the dozens of thick, warm mittens and stockings that were knit by little hands that summer.

The Pilgrims could not take any cows with them, so in every cottage there were small tubs being packed with sweet, yellow butter to be taken to the new homes across the sea.

It would take them many weeks to cross the ocean, and much food would be needed for the journey. They could not raise more grain until the next summer, so they must take enough to last them all winter.

With the money the Pilgrims had given him, Elder Brewster had bought a small ship in Holland. It was called the “Speedwell,” and it now waited for them at Delfshaven, about twenty-four miles away.

If you had been in Leiden one morning late in July, you might have seen the Pilgrims loading the canal boats which would carry them to Delfshaven. Almost before it was light that morning the men began to carry things upon the boats. Their kind Dutch neighbors worked as busily as they, helping to carry the heavy boxes of ship bread, salted meats, or dried fruits.

There were barrels and barrels of meal, and other barrels holding grain for seed. There were great sacks of beans, dried peas, and vegetables, but at last the boats were loaded.

The Pilgrims had many friends in England who they thought would like to go to America with them. So Elder Brewster had gone to England to see them, and to arrange for a ship to carry them all across the sea.

He was gone several weeks, and when he returned he found the Pilgrims ready for the journey. Each family could take only a few of the most needful things. There would not be room on the ship for all their goods, so they would take only such things as they could not make.

The beautiful china plates and cups which they had bought in Holland must be left, for they would be easily broken. Their old pewter dishes would last much longer, and they would look very well when they were scoured bright with sand.

They would take their silver spoons and the steel knives they had brought from England. The old brass candlesticks, the spinning wheels, and the great copper kettles must have a place in the boat.

—

FAREWELL TO HOLLAND

WHEN all was ready, they bade their Dutch friends good-bye. How kind these people had been to them during the years they had lived in Holland. They had done all they could to make the Pilgrims happy and comfortable in their city. And when they were preparing to go away, many yellow balls of cheese, little tubs of butter, and webs of white linen came from these good Hollanders.

John Robinson and all the members of his church went to Delfshaven with those who were to sail on the “Speedwell.”

As the canal boats moved slowly away, the Pilgrims looked for the last time upon their little cottages. They had lived twelve long years in Holland, and it seemed like a dear home to them. Most of the children had never known any other home.

Groups of Hollanders stood at their doors to wave farewell to the Pilgrims as they passed. Five or six little boys with bare legs and clumsy wooden shoes, ran along beside the canal boats, calling in Dutch to their friends.

But now the boys had shouted a last “good-bye;” the city with its great mills and shops, its quaint houses and pretty gardens lay behind them. They were coming to the beautiful city gate with its round towers and pointed spires.

Mary Chilton and Faith and Patience Brewster stood together looking at the great gate. “Do you remember the first time we passed through this gate, Mary?” asked Patience. “That was eleven years ago and you were a very little girl then.”

“Yes, indeed, I remember it,” answered Mary. “I was six years old. I can remember our home in England and the ship in which we came to Holland. Can you, Fear?”

“I do not remember much about England,” answered Fear, who was the youngest of the three, “but I remember our home in Amsterdam. I wonder where Jan and Katrina are this summer. Their boat was in Leiden all winter.”

And so the girls talked of anything except their long parting. They could not speak of that. The tears were so close to Fear’s eyes she was afraid to wink lest they run over.

This was a beautiful summer day. Holland meadows had never looked brighter. There were gay little summerhouses perched on stilts by the side of the lake. Some stood in the water and a little boat tied to the steps of one showed how its owner had reached it. There he sat smoking his long pipe and watching his little son, who sat on the doorstep and fished.

Everywhere were the windmills, the dikes, and the canals that had seemed so strange to them at first. Now all these things seemed like old friends to the Pilgrims and made them sad to say good-bye to Holland.

Late in the evening they reached Delfshaven, where the “Speedwell” was waiting for them. All night the sailors worked, loading the goods from the canal boats into the ship, and making ready for an early start in the morning.

Then came the hardest parting. The tears would start. Even strong men wept as they looked into each other’s faces and thought that perhaps they might never see these friends again.

There on the ocean shore these brave men and women knelt down and prayed to the God they loved. They prayed that He would be with those who stayed as well as with those who sailed away. Their pastor’s voice broke many times as he spoke to God of his friends.

After this prayer, the Pilgrims went silently and sadly on board the “Speedwell” and sailed away to England. They waved to the dear ones on the shore and stood watching them as long as they could be seen.

Pilgrims Stories

Pilgrim Stories: Chapters 15 and 16

A PERPLEXING PROBLEM

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WHEN they first came to Holland, everything seemed strange to the English children. The gay-colored houses with their floors of blue tile, their queer little fireplaces, and their steep roofs, were very different from the homes they had left in England.

They had never seen wooden shoes such as the Dutch children wore. The dikes to keep out the sea, the giant windmills, and the canals all seemed odd.

Strangest of all was the language. They thought they could never learn it.

But after they had lived in Holland a few years these things did not seem so strange. The little English children began to like the Dutch dress and ways. They liked the canal streets, the whirling windmills, and the Dutch cottages.

They liked the pretty, bright dresses and gold cap-buttons which the Dutch girls wore, and wished to dress like them. They sometimes coaxed their mothers to wear pretty lace caps and fine earrings such as their neighbors wore.

“It is not right for you to care so much about pretty clothes,” said their parents. “Plain caps and dresses are more suitable for Pilgrims.”

These children soon learned the language of Holland, and liked it almost as well as their native one. Indeed, some of them liked it better, and often spoke Dutch at home instead of English.

It was now eleven years since the Pilgrims had come to Holland. In this time many babies had been born in their new homes. When these little ones began to talk, their parents taught them to speak English, but when they were old enough to play out of doors, they heard Dutch all about them, and when they went to school they heard nothing but that language. Soon the little ones were speaking better Dutch than English.

This was a real sorrow to the Pilgrim fathers and mothers, who did not want their children to become Hollanders. They wished them to remember the English language and English ways. They feared that in a few years no one could tell their children from those of the Hollanders.

The Pilgrims often talked about their old homes in England. Many of them were not so well and strong since they worked in the mills. Worst of all, many of their children had to work there while they were still young. Their rosy cheeks were growing pale, and their backs bent.

The Pilgrims longed for little farms of their own where they and their sons could work in the open air as they had done in England, but they were too poor to buy farms in Holland.

“We hear much about the new land across the sea,” said John Robinson, their pastor. “A good many Englishmen have gone there and made comfortable homes for themselves. They say it is a great, beautiful country where there is land enough for all.”

“I am told the ground there is very rich, and the crops never fail for want of rain or sunshine,” said John Carver.

“If we were in America we could make homes such as we had in England. We could have our own church, and bring up our children to love and serve God,” said Elder Brewster.

“Can we go so far away?” they thought. Between America and Holland the sea is very wide.

The Pilgrims thought of the pleasant homes and the dear friends they would leave in Holland. They thought how long it would be before they could have as good schools as those in Leiden.

They thought of the long voyage, and of the hardships of life in the new land. There was not a city, nor a town, nor even a house in the place where they would go. There were no mills where they could buy timber for their cottages. They would have to cut down the trees to make their own lumber.

“The Indians live in the forests. They are said to be very savage and cruel,” said Master Allerton.

“We would treat them like brothers and perhaps they would be our friends,” answered the pastor.

Whenever the Pilgrims met they talked about going to America. They talked about the broad fields they would own, and the cozy homes they would build.

“Above all,” they said, “we shall be free. We will build our own church and worship God as we think right. Our children will be healthier, happier, and better than in this large city.”

And so the Pilgrims decided to go to America. But they could not all go at once. There would be no houses for them to live in at first, and many were too old, or too weak, to bear the hardships of starting the new home.

It was decided that if the greater number of the Pilgrims went to America, John Robinson would go with them. If fewer went, Elder Brewster would go with them and be their pastor. It was soon learned that most of them could not leave Leiden until later, so Elder Brewster and about eighty of his friends planned to go that summer.

Only those who were well and strong were to go in the first ship. Many families would have to be separated for a year or more.

Elder Brewster’s family was large, and he could not take them all at first. Love and his little brother were too young to be left. Mistress Brewster could not be contented an hour if the wide sea lay between her and her little boys.

Jonathan Brewster was a young man now, and was working in Leiden. Patience and Fear had grown to be large girls, and could spin and weave, sew and cook almost as well as Mistress Brewster herself.

So it was arranged that Jonathan would go on with his work in Leiden, with his sisters to keep house for him. They all hoped to be able to join the others in America in a year or two.

—

THE SWORD OF MILES STANDISH

AMONG those who went to John Robinson’s church was Captain Miles Standish. He was an Englishman, but he had lived many years in Holland, where he went to help the Dutch fight for their freedom.

Once while he was fighting in Holland, some soldiers went to the house of an old man who made swords and armor. They took some of the armor and were threatening to harm the old man and his daughter.

Captain Standish saw them, and shouted, “You cowards! To steal from a poor old man! Cowards! Give back everything you have taken.” And the rude soldiers obeyed.

Then to the trembling old man he said, “No harm shall come to you, so do not be afraid. Your life is safe, and your daughter, too, is free from danger. Go back to your shop in peace.”

The old man could not thank him then; his heart was too full. But that night Miles Standish heard a knock at his door. When he looked out, he saw the old sword maker standing in the darkness. He had something carefully wrapped in his cloak.

“Captain Standish,” he said, “you are a brave, brave soldier. You are more than that; you are a kind and noble man.” Then, holding out the gift he had brought, the man said, “Take this sword and take with it the heart-felt thanks of an old man whose life and whose daughter you have saved.”

Miles Standish could not refuse without giving pain, so he took the man’s gift. It was a fine old sword which had been made in the Far East hundreds of years before Miles Standish was born. On one side were engraved the sun, moon, and stars. On the other side were some words written in an old, old language.

The Captain thanked the man and said, “This sword shall always be my friend. It shall always be ready to help those who are in trouble.” He named the sword “Gideon,” and he sometimes spoke to it as though it were a friend.

But now the war was over, and though it had been ten years since Miles Standish had needed “Gideon,” it always hung at his side.

Captain Standish often talked with the Pilgrims about their plan of going to America. He thought about the natives who lived in the new land, and about the ships from other countries which might try to take their town.

“I will go with you to your new home,” he said. “There may be work for ‘Gideon’ and me.”

Pilgrim Stories: Chapters 13 and 14

FROM AMSTERDAM TO LEIDEN

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A FEW miles away from Amsterdam is the beautiful city of Leiden, with its many water-streets, fine schools, and great woolen and linen mills. For many reasons this city seemed to the Pilgrims a better place than Amsterdam to make their homes.

So one spring morning found a little fleet of canal boats tied up in the street where the Pilgrims all lived. It did not take them long to load their goods upon the boats, for they had very little. They were much poorer than they had been in England, but they were not unhappy.

When all was ready, the square, brown sails were raised and the boats moved slowly down the canal between the rows of houses and trees. At every cross street the bridge must be raised to allow them to pass.

From one little canal into another they sailed, until the city was left behind. Then they passed into the great, broad canal which lay across the country from city to city. It looked like a long, bright ribbon stretched across the green meadows.

It was a trip long to be remembered, this ride through fairyland. Behind them were the shining waters of the sea and the spires of the city they were leaving.

On both sides were rich, green meadows and herds of fine black and white cattle. There were many beautiful ponds and lakes, and pretty little summerhouses gaily painted.

Whichever way the Pilgrims looked they could see the great windmills. Sometimes they stood in groups, looking like a family of giants against the sky. Here and there one stood so close to the canal that the Pilgrims could see the flowers in the windows of the first story, where the miller’s family lived. They could even speak to the miller’s children, who played about the door or helped their father load the bags of meal into his boat.

But these windmills were not all used to grind grain into meal. Some were sawmills; others pumped water out of the low meadows into the canal. The canals flowed between thick stone walls and were high above the fields about them.

Sometimes the Pilgrims passed gardens of gay [brightly colored] flowers. These were tulip farms where thousands of these bright flowers were raised.

There is no flower so dear to the hearts of the Hollanders as the tulip. There was once a time when they seemed to think more of these bright blossoms than of anything else. They sold houses and lands, cattle and horses, to buy a few tulip bulbs. They were more precious than jewels. A thousand dollars was not thought too great a price for the finest plants. We read that one man paid five times that sum for a single bulb.

But when the Pilgrims were in Holland the “tulip craze” had not yet begun. I think the Hollanders enjoyed their beds of common tulips more than they did the few costly blossoms they bought later. If a few of them died then there was no great loss.

As the Pilgrims came nearer the city of Leiden, they saw a strange sight. Close beside a large garden of bright flowers was a field which looked as if it were covered with deep snow. They could see it was not a field of white flowers. What could it be?

When the boats reached this place, the Pilgrims saw long pieces of white linen bleaching in the sun. They had been woven in one of the mills at Leiden.

Late in the afternoon the great stone wall about the city came in sight. Above it rose the roofs of buildings, church spires, and the beautiful bell tower of the statehouse.

As the band of Pilgrims sailed through the water-gates into the city, the chimes in the tower began to ring. To the Pilgrims they seemed to say, “Welcome to Leiden! Welcome to Leiden!”

—–

IN LEIDEN

BEFORE bringing their families to Leiden, the Pilgrim men had all found work in that city. A few of them worked in the printing shops, but most of them went to the great woolen mills.

Here some washed the wool, or combed it ready for the spinning wheels. Some dyed it, some wove it into cloth. Others packed the finished cloth in boxes, or loaded it on ships on the canal.

This work was very different from anything they had done in England. There they had been farmers, working in the fresh air and sunshine on their own fields. At first the work in the mills seemed very hard to them, but they worked early and late, hoping to earn enough to buy little farms sometime.

The Pilgrims had no church of their own when they went to Leiden, but John Robinson, their pastor, had a large house, and they all went there to worship.

There was no reason for secret meetings in Holland. As long as they were honest and well behaved, no one cared how the newcomers worshiped. So every Sunday morning, when the bells in the great church towers rang, the Pilgrims walked to Master Robinson’s house.

Near their pastor’s home was the largest and finest church in Leiden. As they walked to meeting, they met hundreds of good Hollanders in their finest suits and silver buckles, or fullest skirts and prettiest lace caps, going to church.

“In their finest suits . . . or fullest skirts”

Across her forehead nearly every woman wore a beautifully carved band of gold, which ended in large, round buttons above her ears. From these great gold buttons hung long earrings, which almost touched her shoulders.

The little girls dressed much like their mothers except that their headdress was more simple. Sometimes their little wooden shoes were prettily carved with leaves and blossoms.

At first, as they passed, these people looked with wonder at the Pilgrims. Their plain brown or gray dress, their high hats, or simple little caps looked very odd to the Hollanders who were so fond of bright colors and pretty clothes. But soon they felt acquainted with their new neighbors and nodded to them pleasantly when they met.

A number of strangers came to John Robinson’s meeting one morning. Some of these strangers were English people who had not come from Scrooby. Some were from France, where their king had treated them as cruelly as King James had treated the Pilgrims.

Among them were Master and Mistress Mullens, and their two children, Joseph and Priscilla. Joseph was a frail little fellow and very timid. Priscilla was a rosy-cheeked, merry little girl with sunny hair and laughing eyes.

Master Robinson and the other Pilgrims were glad to have these people join them. They made them very welcome. How happy they all were as they sang their songs of praise and listened to their pastor’s voice. No more hiding from the soldiers; no more dark, damp prisons. Those sad days were gone forever.